It's a junk yard
in their front yard
full of dirt piles and rusty tools.
Like white bread
toasted,
the neighborhood
thinks their fools
but are they living
better than us?
Spitting off the front porch
peanut butter jelly hands.
He wipes his fingers
on his chest
than licks the rest off
with his tongue
and it's hard to understand
when the heat kicks in
we ask if God's got a plan
but maybe they're living
better than the rest of us?
Still,
I guess if we question
that may be the lesson
that flat tires
on a bicycle
gets us farther than
we'd ever learn.
While they yell riding,
flashing us
they laugh so much
they're almost crying
and we die with the ache
before there ever gone
And maybe,
they have it right
they just go on
living their lives
better then we ever could
for ourselves.
Down the street,
on the corner,
grandma smokes her
pack a day,
beer in hand
the he's just a child
turned 12 years old today
as he takes a swig
I turn away.

All the strength
         I had left
You stole
         to make me weak.
All the light
         I had to give
has turned too
        d a r k n e s s.
The silence is a
         resounding chorus
to the pain
         no one can see
and I suppose
         I was just a casualty
in your war.
       He called me a
sweet  g  i  r  l
       but that's a vile
thing to be.
       I was Mary once,
a  v i r g i n
       until he came and
***** me
        but even lambs
are slaughtered
        everyday
from the outside, inward
          blood always.
there is no...  i n n o c e n c e
                        left anymore.

I am a rib
pulled out from your cage.
I am the apple
pressed against your lips.
I am the warmth
within your breath.
The sweet nectar
on your fingertips.
Your heart was made
but your soul was mystic.
The otherworldly flow
of spirit
within boundless space.
A warrior of flesh and blood
inside a
mirror-image
of my face.
"bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;"
What is this you have done?
You,
my demise but still
I become the mother
of all the living.
For the dust I am,
I will return.

Can you keep a secret?
Promise me,
you'll keep it
shut behind your
lips and teeth and tongue.
Though I'm sure
once I've said it
you won't ever forget it
but I'll regret it later
when its been said and done.
Since all the walls have ears
and all the ears hold whispers
little things
that I could never tell
but you remain so silent
when inside you're so defiant
it's secrets like this
that reveal your true self.
Yet,
once they're out
they're out
and everything changes
and what's more strange is
the fact that
everyone says, 'they won't'
but despite their excuses
loose lips often sink our truces
because words have a way
to undo the 'don't's
don't tell a soul
it's between you and I
forever
and
ever
but that's a lie
since all the eyes
looking back in mine know
that don't became
'did you know...'
The doors close and lock away
all those with the courage to say
Can you keep a secret?
Promise me,
you won't

May I...
      trace the lines
                on your face?
                    and read what's written
                           in your palms.
                                  I want to know
                                            If I'm a part of
                                  your future
                 and if such a fate is
written in the stars.
            I wish I could know,
                    what to do with every
                                 freckle on your skin
                                            May I connect each fleck
                           to the ones on my arms?
               near my heart,
I'd create a galaxy
            of lovely stars
                        and new worlds
                                        for us to see
                                          and I'd know it'd be so
                                                                heavenly...
                                                 so may I take
                                your hand in my own
                   and let our tapestries
collide for all time.

The black spinning wheel
tells my eyes what your red shirt
Whispers to the breeze
softly on your skin it breathes
you look back but say nothing

The soles of my feet
     kiss the lush blades
     that never harm or
     undo me.
     It's the sound of
     jays in the trees
     and the wood burning
     fragrance from
     Autumns offering
     What magic is this?
     is it the work of a witch?
     Or a God that knows
     full well of their creations.
     Do they master the landscape?
     deciding where to place
     every work of art,
     like fingers uncurling
     to breathe life from the dust.
          One single motion,
           scatters us all
           to become runners
           in all the colors of fall
           Blank canvas of winter,
           Cherry lips in spring
            blooming fully in summer,
            I know the way to
        make an offering
        of thanks,
        I kiss the face of one
        who knows the pace
        Of my heart through the seasons
        giving me reasons
        to never fear the leap
        or the break.
             They know my footsteps
             won't regret or forsake
             The adventure of
             discovering beauty in
             Both joy and suffering
             because life is as fleeting
                     as seasons.